Sleep
by lexieconextreme
Summary: Or rather, lack thereof. (COMPLETE!)
1. I Will Suffer Through It With You

**A/N: Hi! This supposed to be about four chapters long, each a different instance of someone's troubling sleeplessness. Maybe not that interesting, I suppose, but this idea's been on my mind for quite a while. After several tries, I finally got this chapter right, and at the same time discovered that I am simply incapable of writing a story one-three pages long.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or the characters within. I cover a few scenes from the show, but nothing's verbatim and I added a few bits and pieces here and there.**

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It had been a week. An entire week since the Elric brothers had attempted to resurrect their dead mother. Not that it had worked. All of that preparation and training, and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. In fact, Al considered, they had even less than they did before the transmutation.

There was a thought. Was this equivalent exchange? Losing all of this for simply trying to bring back the dead? It sure didn't seem equivalent, but then again, neither did half of the bad things that happen to people who did things wrong in the world. Maybe two lonely brothers who wanted their mother back _was_ worth losing a body. Worth an arm and a leg.

Ah, but there was the mistake. "Simply trying to bring back the dead," huh? No, maybe Al did deserve this punishment if he thought things like that. Before the transmutation, both he and Edward had thought it would be a cinch to bring back their mother, especially with their level of training and their equations. After, when Al "woke up," he'd been confused as to why his older brother's calculations hadn't worked. Ed had barely managed to tell him that it hadn't been the calculations that were wrong, but just bringing back the dead in general. That was what had cost the brothers their bodies.

Ugh, enough of that.

Even with this extended train of thought, Alphonse still didn't feel like the effects of the transmutation were fair. Not when he sat next to his unconscious fever-ridden older brother, watching as Edward sometimes writhed in his sleep, listening as he moaned quietly, unable to hide the pained sound when unconsciousness was in the way.

Even if the price was fair, it wasn't. Al stifled a laugh that fought it's way up his...what? Not his throat, because he didn't have one. Blood seal? Even if it wasn't right, it was close enough.

Alphonse brought his mind back to the present as Edward once again moaned, rolling over onto his bandaged side and curling into a fetal position beneath his blankets.

"Brother," Alphonse sighed. He reached over, gently straightening out his older brother's limbs as carefully as he could, attempting to not awaken him. Golden eyes flickered open, dazed and foggy with sleep and pain.

Those eyes stared at the suit of armor, no sense of recognition in them for a solid thirty seconds. Just when Al was beginning to get a little worried, intuition flickered behind the pain and a small, croaking sound choked it's way out of Edward's throat. "Al."

"That's right, brother. I'm here."

"Water?"

"Of course." Al picked up the cup from beside the bed, carefully lifted up his brother's head and tilted water down his throat slowly, being careful not to spill. When Ed could drink no more, Al set the water cup aside and his brother's head back down. Edward's head turned to the side to look at him. "Why aren't you sleeping, Al? It's late." His voice wasn't quite so raspy, though it was still quiet.

Al was a little hesitant to tell him. He wasn't quite sure he wanted his brother to know yet, unsure of what the elder might attempt in his weakened state. But in the end he did.

"It doesn't seem like this body will let me go to sleep, brother. There's no eating or drinking or using the bathroom either, but I think you already knew those last three."

Edward's nod was tiny, and Al could see the emotions roiling inside his mind, guilt being the primary one.

"I'm sorry, Al. If I'd just-"

"If you'd just what, brother?" Al interrupted, quiet but firm. "This was the only choice you had, aside from letting me die, and I'm glad you didn't do that. This was the best solution you could come up with at that moment at that time. Don't blame yourself for it."

"Don't ask me not to blame myself, little brother. You'll never be able to make me." A small smile flickered across the tired face.

"That's not funny, brother."

"Sure it is, Al, when you take things into perspective."

"Into whose perspective?"

"God's."

Al was silent, then, "Go back to sleep, brother. You have a fever, and Granny Pinako says some sleep might help."

"...No."

"What?"

"I said no. And once again, you can't make me."

"I can too! How about I ask Granny to give you a sedative?"

"How about I go into a screaming fit if the old bat comes near me with a damn needle?"

"How about I go at you with a wrench if you scream at Gramma, Alchemy Freak?" That was Winry, who stood on the landing with her hands clenched into fists settled upon her hips. Ed turned his head to the side to stare at her, acting like he didn't think she really would, and inwardly wondering if that was the truth. Deciding that Winry really would, Ed closed his mouth and looked away.

Seeming satisfied, Winry went back up the stairs to her room. Ed wondered what it was she did up there, because she certainly didn't sleep. There were always loud-ish sounds coming from within, and no one, not even he, was that loud a snorer.

Al stared down at his brother worriedly. Ed's face was still flushed with fever, and Al figured that if he could touch his brother's skin, it would be flaming hot to the touch. He really honestly didn't like the thought of that. "I really think you should go back to sleep, Ed."

"I told you I won't, Al. I put you into this body, this body without the ability to sleep. It's only been a week since the transmutation, and already you're sick of it. When Granny, Winry, and I are all sleeping, you're all alone."

"It's nothing I can't deal with, brother. Really. I can just read the whole night away, I'm okay with that."

"Well, I'm not! I won't leave you alone all throughout the night! It's my fault you're in this body, so I'm going to suffer through it with you!"

Right. Because logic. Al shook his head. He hoped one or two nights of no sleep would be enough to put Edward to sleep, willingly or not, but he also had to take into consideration Edward's determination.

Al knew that his brother had an iron will and was concerned that that might be the only thing keeping Ed from sleep in a few days. Even when his body was weak from lack of sleep, his mind muddled and unable to think clearly in a short amount of time, Ed would never let himself fall asleep. Because of his love and loyalty toward his younger brother.

Still, Al could hope. And if the sleep deprivation itself didn't send Edward to sleep in a few days, then Al really _would_ have Granny Pinako give Ed a sedative. He knew Ed would be unhappy with him for it, but if his older brother got better and sleep, then Al didn't really mind.

As it turned out, one or two days wasn't enough. While his older brother was certainly exhausted, with large dark bags under his eyes that steadily grew bigger, he still refused to go to sleep. He stayed up with Al at night, talked with him, played card games with him, and even just read with him. Ed would focus on his books for hours at a time, and Al would do the same. While they didn't talk, they still seemed a lot more relaxed in each other's company.

They didn't read together often, mostly because Ed was more afraid of falling asleep during those moments when he was so calm, so relaxed. A few times, Al had watched Ed's eyes close for a few seconds or minutes at a time, and Al would breathe his metaphorical sigh of relief, hoping against hope that his brother would stay asleep. But it always seemed that as soon as Al caught himself thinking that thought, Ed's eyes would snap open again. He would shake his head, pinch himself, then go back to reading as if nothing had happened.

Three or four days wasn't enough either, though by the end of the fourth day, Edward had barely enough energy to eat. His body was still subject to on-and-off fever. Al doubted the lack of sleep was doing his brother's healing process any favors. He decided that if he hadn't convinced his brother to go to sleep by the end of the fifth day, or if Edward hadn't done it by himself, then he would go to Granny and ask for her help. Really, Edward's body couldn't take much more of it's sleepless treatment.

Even though his energy was fading rapidly, and he now actually needed help to lift even his spoon to his mouth, Edward still remained obstinate in his decision to not sleep. Al had to wonder what his plan was. What? Never sleep again? That's a lot of decades to not sleep because of a decision. It's one thing if you literally, physically cannot sleep. It's another if you decide not to sleep because you put your brother's soul into a body that can't sleep.

It was the fifth day, and while Al couldn't say his brother was still going strong, Edward was definitely hanging in there. The dark circles under his eyes seemed like heavy weights, and there was barely any energy in his sleep-deprived limbs. The only thing keeping him awake right now seemed to be the argument Ed was holding with his younger brother, trying to convince Alphonse to take he and his wheelchair outside.

Finally, and it was only because of Alphonse's endearingly kind heart, Edward succeeded. Al picked his brother up carefully and set him in the wheelchair, laying a blanket over his knees quickly after that. Al was halfway to the door when he heard a car pull up outside. Less than a moment later there was a harsh knock at the door, and Edward stiffened, though he wasn't quite sure why.

Pinako answered the door. "Hello? What can I do for-HEY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" A tall man in a blue military uniform barged in past Pinako, looking around the large room until he spotted Ed and Al. Ed seemed to wilt under the man's gaze, and it didn't take much to figure out what he was so angry for.

He stomped at a frighteningly angry pace toward Ed and Al, grabbing the former by the shirt and lifting him out of his seat. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He all but roared. "I went to your house, and I saw that _thing_ on the floor! What did you do?!"

The thing was, Al thought, the man looked less angry and more terrified. As if the idea of such young boys doing human transmutation had scared the living- forgive the Aerugonian, here- shit out of him.

It was then Al realized that he'd seen the man before, if only for a moment. He wasn't quite sure how long ago it was, but it had been right about the time that State Alchemists were being sent to Ishbal to squash the rebellion.

*** **flashback that is completely falsified bullcrap*****

Soldiers on their way to Ishbal generally took the train from Central, which had a stop in Resembool for refueling and to give its passengers a chance to stretch their legs. Ah, that was when Al saw him. He and Ed were about to get on the train with Teacher and Sig on the way to Dublith. The train opposite theirs had been unboarding. The train carried more soldiers than not, and these soldiers were getting off to stretch their legs or find something to eat.

As the man Al never would have noticed otherwise walked by, a sealed letter dropped from his bag. Little Al saw it and quickly sprang forward, snatched it up and ran after it's owner before Edward, Izumi or Sig could stop him.

"Hey, mister!" Al called, almost slamming into several people before he could catch up with the older man he was actually after. "Hey! Mister soldier!" The man paused, as if thinking that title _could_ be referring to him. He turned, looking around for whoever might be calling him.

Al ran up quickly, holding out his hand with the envelope. "You dropped this!"

The man stared at it a moment, as if surprised. Then he reached out his own hand and took it. He stared at the child a moment longer, then said, "Thanks kid." He reached out and gently ruffled Al's hair before turning and continuing on his way, his eyes focused on the now-returned letter.

 *****end of flashback that is completely falsified bullcrap*****

Al thought of that moment, then felt sad that the man might never associate the kid who gave him back a dropped letter with a ten-foot-tall suit of armor. A dry sob echoed through his armor at the thought and this man's fear and anger for a couple of kids he didn't know, that this man might never actually know Al as he was, that he and Ed had gone through with their plan, that he no longer had a body to call his own and that his brother was in such physical and mental pain.

"We're sorry, mister soldier. We're sorry." Al wasn't sure how many times he repeated those words. He just knew that he did. His brother looked sad, devastated really. That devastation mixed with his sleep deprivation made his older brother look almost defeated, though Al knew it was far from so.

The man looked at him now, wondering to hear the empty rattling that emanated from Al's armor. He sucked in breath quickly, as if surprised. "Wait, are you...?" The sentence went unfinished. The soldier suddenly looked back down at the boy in his hands, then set him back down gently. "Sorry," he muttered. The soldier stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I, um, I came here with a proposition for you. Will you hear me out?"

Ed stared up at the man with tired eyes. "Sure. As long as you don't start yelling again." _Not with my brother here, bastard_.

"Say what you have to say and leave."

* * *

Al watched out the window as the Lieutenant Colonel and his Lieutenant drove away down the hill. "What do you think, Ed? Are you gonna join the State Alchemists?" He turned to look at his brother.

Ed gave him a tired grin. "What do you think? This Mustang guy is willing to give us a chance to get our bodies back! Of course I'm going to join up!"

"And how're you gonna do that, brother?"

"Well, first I gotta get back on my feet. I'm going to ask Granny to give me automail. Then I can go find Mustang."

Al stared at his brother with unreadable red soulfire eyes, thinking. "And I'll go with you. But first you need to get some sleep."

"No, Al. I told you. I'm not gonna let be all alone all those nights."

"You can't get automail when you're weakening your body like this, brother! Both your brain and your body need that sleep!"

Edward stared at his little brother for a few moments before looking down. "But I don't want you to have to be alone for all those nights, Al. Not for something that was my fault. You don't deserve to be punished for my mistake!"

"It was both of our mistake, brother," Al answered calmly. "It's not your job to take all the blame and put it on your shoulders alone. In order to stay healthy, to give your body the ability to endure the automail, you have to sleep! Five days, and it's already weakening you! Brother, you can barely hold up your own spoon! You can't get our bodies back if you're exhausted and half asleep all the time! As a State Alchemist, I imagine you would run into trouble a lot. You can't fight if you're sleepy!"

Edward continued to look down, like he was thinking deeply. He took a deep breath, then sighed. "I suppose you're right, Al." Ed bit his lip, looking around the room. "I _am_ really tired," he admitted with a slight grin.

Al would have rolled his eyes if he could have. "I should think so, brother. I mean, you've only been awake for five days in a row with a body that is struggling to heal itself."

Ed glared at him. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just roll me over to my bed, wise guy." Al did so with a cheerful attitude, then watched happily as his brother settled down beneath his covers and closed his eyes. "Goo'nigh', Al," he mumbled sleepily, finally succumbing to sleep.

Al's soul smiled as he watched his brother sleep peacefully for the first time in almost two weeks.


	2. The Curious Case of Roy Mustang

Warning, there's a bit of language in this chapter. Never mind a bit, like, there's a whole crap ton of f-bombs and other words in this chapter. Plus some graphic-ish images.

 **ChibiestMoon: Well, I hope I continue to live up to your praise! Dunno what you'll think of this chapter, though.**

 **PrincessChiChi99: I feel like this chapter is as emotional as the last, though almost definitely not in the same way.**

 **Attackoneverything: Damn, you are EVERYWHERE! I'm 99% sure that you review on anything FMA that I write. So thanks for that!**

 **Here Strikes Dawn: I'm glad you liked it! It took a lot of effort to write a story as good as anything you've written. I'm also happy you liked the last line. My sister took one look at it and her heart melted too, lol. Also, do you have any idea what's up with the notifications on Look Before You Listen? Because I swear I've pressed the follow button on your story like five times, but it never notifies me when you upload a new chapter. Craziness. Now I must go read aforementioned new chapter.**

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters within.

* * *

Roy awoke with cold sweat coating his body. Enough that the sheets, blankets, and the pillowcase that he'd been in contact with were all soaked with moisture. Well, that was just lovely. Roy groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. There was this pain, right behind his eyes, that didn't seem to want to go away, as well as a throbbing ache that resounded throughout his head.

Throwing his legs over the side of his bed, Roy hunched over them, hoping that the lack of movement for a moment would still the headache. As soon as he stopped moving and his blood wasn't pounding quite so fast, the headache subsided. That was, until he started moving again. _Screw it_ , Roy decided. He stood and stretched as carefully as he could, knowing it wouldn't do much. The blood rushed through his head at a maddening pace, pounding through his ears.

 _Fuck_ , Roy thought. _It doesn't seem like it's going to leave me so easily._

Oh well. That was what Ibuprofen was for. And alcohol.

A pained grin crept across his face as Roy stumbled into the adjoining bathroom and flipped on the light, only to flip it back off immediately with a groan. Feeling his way in the dark, Roy reached for the medicine cabinet and fumbled through its contents.

Wait. _Shit_ , he was going to need the light to see just which drug he was taking.

Reaching for the light once again, Roy flipped it on and squinted at the label on the bottle in his hand. Oh, good, the Ibuprofen. Ooh, even better, Ibuprofen PM. Yeah, this shit would send him straight back to sleep for a few hours.

Roy stepped back out of the bathroom, glancing at the clock beside his bed. Yikes, two o'clock. He glanced back at the pill bottle in his hand. This pill was likely to keep him asleep well past when his alarm would go off for work. But the pounding in his head demanded attention, and Roy wasn't one to deprive it of what it wanted. The Lieutenant would likely kill him when Roy finally did get in tomorrow, but if this goddamned thing would go away, then it would be worth it.

Deciding being late one day of the work week wouldn't end the world, Roy went back into the bathroom to fill a glass with water. He struggled with the pill bottle for a few moments and was less than a few seconds away from burning the entire thing- contents as well- to a crisp when the cap finally came off. Roy swallowed the pill dry, then chased it down with water to get that nasty tablet-pill taste out of his mouth. Roy was never sure why he continued to swallow pills dry when they had that horrible taste, but he did it anyway.

Knowing he would pass out again soon, Roy went back into his room and quite literally fell into bed. He groaned in disgust. Right. The goddamned sheets were soaked with sweat, and Roy was much too tired and in too much pain to even want to try and go twelve rounds with a fitted sheet and his mattress together. Instead, he stumbled down the hallway, stopping at the linen closet for a fresh blanket, and into the living room.

He collapsed onto the couch, using the armrest as a pillow. He didn't really think about how much he would regret that in the morning, as that armrest was about the most painful fucking piece of furniture that Roy owned. He just thought about sleep, and how nice it would be once his thoughts were no longer grounded by reality.

Of course, he never stopped to think what dream it was that he'd woken up from. And it never occurred to Roy that it might come back the instant he tried to sleep.

* * *

 _Smoke filled the air. But that was nothing unusual, Ishbal was always on fire these days. Roy squinted through it, trying to regain sight of Maes. He'd just been there a moment before, hadn't he?_

 _Oh, well. Roy would see Maes later at Base Camp, wouldn't he? Except Roy had this sinking feeling, like he wouldn't ever see Maes again if he didn't find him now._

 _Feeling anxious, his heart pumping a little faster than Roy would ever admit, Roy stepped through the smoke cautiously, chancing a quiet, "Hughes!"_

 _There was no answer, though Roy couldn't really say he was expecting one. His legs carried him faster through the dark, suffocating smoke, though Roy hadn't told them to. "Hughes!"_

 _His legs carried him into an abandoned building, and his eyes searched hopefully for his friend. Or hope_ less _ly, Roy wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure what to expect from an empty building. Something moved in the darkness, beyond Roy's sight. Not that abandoned, apparently._

 _The figure moved into the light, offering Roy a good look at him. And a him it was, a young him. The kid couldn't have been older than fifteen- the same age as Fullmetal._

 _Ah, so it_ was _a dream. If it wasn't, Roy wouldn't know who Fullmetal was. Hell of a dream though. It seemed familiar, somehow, and more realistic. More surreal, like a...memory? But that couldn't be. Roy had no actual recollection of this search for Hughes. He figured it best to watch, wait and see where the dream went._

 _The Ishbalan boy stepped further out of the shadows nervously, obviously casing the building and checking Roy out, assessing the danger of the Amestrian soldier before him. Roy opened his mouth, intending to say something along the lines of, "It's okay, I won't hurt you."_

 _Instead, what came out was, "Dirty Ishbalan. I hate all you fuckers." Roy's eyes widened in shock, wondering at the sentences he hadn't even been thinking. What the hell?_

 _The boy's eyes widened as well, and it was then that Roy noticed the large gun he carried at his side. It looked like the type Aerugonian soldiers carried, though Roy couldn't be sure. He guessed this was proof that Aerugo was supplying Ishbal with weapons in their war against Amestris._

 _The gun lifted, pointing directly at Roy. Roy backed away a step, and the boy's hand sprang to the trigger. He held up his hands carefully, once again opening his mouth and hoping against hope he had control this time. Apparently not, as the words, "You better shoot me now, you little fucker, or I swear to your precious god Ishballa that I will burn you to a crisp and make your family watch."_

 _Once again horrified at his words, Roy slammed his mouth shut in shock, no longer trusting himself to speak. He watched the kid carefully. The Ishbalan seemed to be in shock, as if he'd never heard an Amestrian soldier speak to him like that. And for all Roy knew, maybe he hadn't._

 _Roy took a step closer to the kid, hands still held in the air. While the kid didn't know it, that was probably the worst place for Roy's gloved hand to be at the moment. He didn't dare speak, afraid of losing control again. With the step forward Roy took, the boy took another step back. The gun in his hand shook, though it was still pointed at Roy's chest and would not miss._

 _Roy took a moment to wonder what exactly he was going to do. He couldn't speak for fear of saying another horrible thing, and it's not like the kid would know military hand gestures that would mean 'get the hell out of here, now'._

 _He could always snap, burn the boy into a crisp as promised and be done with the whole situation, and Roy could go on with his search for Maes. But Roy didn't want to have to do that, the boy reminded him too much of Fullmetal. But if the boy didn't back down, he wouldn't have much of a choice._

 _From behind the boy came a light chuckle, though the kid didn't seem to notice. Something in the shadows moved. Another figure? Yes, there he was. He didn't as far into the light as the kid had, though enough that Roy could see his face, which drowned in shadows, and his bright clothes._

 _Sorry, but was that a...clown? It's bright red hair stuck out in dead tufts, and it's colorful suit was in tatters. Blood leaked through the thin cloth all over It's body, and it's white-painted face was dry and leathery, like that of a mummy. In Its right hand It held the strings for several balloons with the dark color of red blood. How could the kid not see it? Was Roy just going insane? A clown, even one as dead as this one looked, in Ishbal? He must be._

 _It took another step forward, and Roy moved his hand and held it poised to snap in the direction of the clown. Clowns were supposed to be friendly, but this one looked anything but. It was ten feet away, and he could smell Its dead, rotting breath. He wanted to throw up, but couldn't._

 _The boy stared at him as if he was insane. He glanced to his left, and his eyes widened. What, did you have to look directly at It to see It? Okay, then. The boy's gun moved from pointed at Roy to pointed at the clown, and suddenly Roy doubted as to whether that would even do anything._

 _No, this thing didn't look like the sort of being that would be bothered by something so simple as a gun._

 _SNAP_

 _Flames raced through the air right past the boy and lighting the clown, turning It into a column of fire. Roy didn't feel any different, any safer. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, a stench that Roy didn't seem to be able to escape these days. But, what was that? That sound?_

 _It sounded almost like laughter, but that couldn't be, could it? A column of fire can't laugh, and the being it had encased a moment before certainly couldn't either, not at this point. Not anymore._

 _But there it was, cackling along with the crackling of the fire. Fire that was hot enough to melt human skin and cremate bones within minutes, but something inside was laughing. It sounded sinister, but weirdly amused, as if the fire didn't bother It at all. Roy almost begged for it to stop, but there wasn't much he could do. Either the fire would kill the thing or it wouldn't, and odds were leaning toward the latter at this moment in time._

 _The flames started dying down before their time, and the boy beside Roy let out an awful screech, the kind of sound Roy would have made if he weren't too busy being disgusted. Roy grimaced, backing away a step._

 _The former clown was a torched corpse now. It's skin was burned away to almost nothing, but just enough to forever sear a terrifying image in the eyeballs of the viewer. The bones that remained were still burning hot, though flames no longer licked them. Heat glowed from within, as if fire was burning up the marrow inside. It truly was a terrifying, disgusting image. Not to mention the smell. It was worse than before, because now the remaining flesh on the corpse was rotting somehow, though it had only been a few minutes._

 _The clown's corpse still stood, the skull a grinning grim reminder of Its old painted on smile. In Its hand It still clenched a fisitful of balloon strings, and somehow the goddamned things hadn't been burned up in the fire. Instead of just being dyed the color of blood like they were before, they actually dripped with real, dark blood now. It splattered on the ground like mini water balloons when hitting a solid object._

 _Repulsed, Roy took another step back. He was behind the boy now. The kid stared in terror at the thing in front of them, which was no longer identifiable as human. The thing suddenly lurched forward a step, and Roy now found himself unable to move. His feet seemed as if glued to the ground, and no amount of mental tugging would release them._

 _The corpse lurched forward another step, toward the boy. Roy wanted to tell the boy to run, but the words stuck in his throat. What the hell was happening?_

 _With speed that should not have been possible for a living human, let alone a corpse, the clown's body shot forward, and the grinning skull latched onto the boy's throat. Blood spurted between the teeth and the gaps in the bone of the corpse, spraying blood onto Roy's face and collar. He wanted to wipe it all away, but again there was the problem of not being able to move._

 _The skull detached from the kid's neck, and the fresh body fell to the ground, creating an audible thump._

 _One balloon loosed itself from the corpse's hold, and it floated still in the air for a moment, unmoving, before it began ascending into the sky. Roy watched in morbid fascination as the balloon floated higher and higher until it was hidden by smoke._

 _It chuckled again, once more demanding Roy's attention. It moved, not lurching this time, but with a slow limp. It walked slowly toward him, as if enjoying the fear It provoked in Roy's mind, making his blood pump faster and faster, so fast Roy thought he might pass out._

" _Ha, that fear. Your scent is laced with it, little human. That pumping blood in your veins, I want it. I want it all." It paused, in both speech and motion. "Do you want a balloon, Roy? It floats, you know. They_ all _float. The more people die, they higher they float." Another balloon loosed itself from Its grasp. "Do you want this one, Roy? It has your name written all over it."_

 _The balloon moved as if pushed, and it stopped about midway between Roy and the corpse. "Look how it floats, Roy." Its dead grin grew wider. "I'd say you're about to die, Roy."_

 _The corpse moved again, faster, much much faster than it should've been able to, faster than anything Roy had ever seen. Its teeth were an inch from his throat, the wide jaws opened and_

SNAP

Roy lurched forward, gasping and struggling to regain his breath. His lungs felt like they were being compressed, like they weren't being allowed to capture the air they needed. He didn't know why, but his arm was held out before him in midair. Ah. Roy had been his gloves on in his sleep. The wall across from where Roy had apparently been aiming was blackened, burned beyond recognition. He put his arm down and swung his legs over the edge of the couch, still struggling to breath. It felt like his lungs were closing up on him, and his vision was going black.

Oh god, his asthma. He'd thought he'd grown out of it when he was a child. Roy's lungs refused to pull in the proper amount of air, and he knew it wouldn't be long until they didn't pull in any at all. He stumbled to his feet, put his hand on the unburned wall and moved toward his bedroom. He had to get to his bedside table.

But no, his vision was spotty and soon his legs refused to hold him. He collapsed to his knees, but before Roy could actually hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught him.

"Roy? Roy what's going on, are you alright?" Was that...?

"Maes," Roy choked out.

"What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Inhaler...bedside...table."

"Your asthma? I thought that was gone! Dammit!" Hughes moved carefully, setting Roy gently against the wall before moving quickly to the bedroom and digging through two drawers before finding what he needed.

Kneeling beside Roy, who seemed to have passed out from lack of oxygen, Maes quickly inserted the inhaler into Roy's mouth and pressed down on the trigger. It was a moment before the medicine did its job, but when Roy gradually started breathing again, Maes breathed a sigh of relief. He went back to Roy's room and picked up a random pillow and went back to the hall. He set the pillow on the floor beside the couch, then gently scooted Roy into a more comfortable position with Roy's head on top of the pillow.

Maes glanced at his watch. It was nearly two in the afternoon. Lieutenant Hawkeye had gotten worried when Roy hadn't reported in at eight when he was supposed to. She was busy with her own duties and keeping Roy's team in check, so she'd asked Maes to come see if Roy was okay. Clearly he wasn't. Sleeping on his couch, it looked like, while in the middle of a serious asthma attack? No, Maes would not call that okay.

He moved back down the hall and into Roy's room. First he was wondering why Roy was sleeping the couch when he had a perfectly fine bed. And it wasn't like he had a wife to piss off, so why? And why had he slept so long? As long as Maes had known Roy, the man had always had a sort of mental alarm clock that went off no matter what. During the war, it had gone off maybe an hour before he was scheduled for duty every morning. It was the same here in East City.

Glancing into the bathroom, he saw a pill bottle sitting on the sink counter. Maes picked it up and glanced at the label. Ibuprofen PM really shouldn't have been enough to make Roy need to sleep until two in the afternoon, especially with Roy's mental alarm clock. He'd noticed the burn marks on the wall earlier, and the ignition gloves on Roy's hand. Maybe he'd had one of those horrible, bad dreams that were so lifelike you almost couldn't tell the difference between the dream and real life.

If that was the case, Maes was sure he knew what the dream had been about. For the both of the, the only dreams that were that vivid were the ones from the war. It must've been what caused Roy to sleep so late, and if the dream was the memory Maes thought it might be, then it made sense that Roy's asthma would come back years after he'd beaten it.

Ah, that memory. Roy had told Maes about it after coming back from the war. It was nearing the end of their stint in Ishbal, and the war was almost won. He'd come wandering back through the endless smoke of Ishbal after being missing for almost three hours. Maes had rushed toward Roy to ask what the hell had happened before stopping abruptly.

There were marks on his neck that were bleeding profusely, and to Maes they'd looked almost like teeth marks. That was confirmed by Doctor Knox, who'd bandaged up Roy's neck after giving him a sedative to help him sleep through the night. Knox had told Maes that not only were they teeth marks, they were human teeth marks. As if some rabid human had tried to take a bite out his best friend.

When Roy'd come wandering out of that smoke, he'd been mumbling incessantly about a clown, a monster that'd survived all of his fire attacks and tried to kill him. He didn't know why it had let him go, because Roy hadn't had the firepower to kill whatever it was.

Roy's story hadn't made a whole lot of sense, which had worried Maes to no end. He was rambling and exhausted and in pain, which was why Knox had finally just knocked him out. What made it even better was that when Roy awoke the next morning, he had no memory of anything to do with the clown, and had no recollection of the entire day beforehand. All that remained of his unknown adventure were the scarring teeth marks on his neck, which vanished soon after as well.

Since the war, Roy had had one occurrence very similar to this one, minus the asthma attack. Maes had been there to keep an eye on him then too, and he would now. Maes went back into the living room and kneeled beside Roy again and began to pull his ignition glove off his hand. Maes didn't want another wall to be burned to a crisp, or even worse, him.

He set the glove aside and stood, stretching his back for a moment, then went into the kitchen to use Roy's phone. After a quick conversation with a certain very worried Lieutenant, Maes once again went back to Roy's side. He sat against the wall beside his friend and waited patiently for him to wake up.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, Roy did just that. His eyes flickered open slowly, at first confused at seeing his friend's face and then a little afraid as his memory of the dream raced back through his mind.

"Maes? What...what are you doing here?" Roy asked, through his rather raspy-sounding voice.

"Looking for you. I got here about two and you were nearly passed out on the floor."

"Two...in the morning?"

"No, Roy, in the afternoon. You slept for a while."

Roy sat up carefully, stretching every muscle slowly as he did. "If that's true, then why do I still feel so tired?"

"Why do you think? You remember what you were dreaming about?"

"...Yeah."

"That would be why. I've already told Lieutenant Hawkeye that you won't be in today, so you can just take the rest of the day off and sleep."

"I'm not so sure that I want to go back to sleep."

"You'll be fine, Roy. I'm right here, and I don't think I'll be leaving for a while."

Roy tossed his friend a half hearted glare before moving to his feet and starting toward his bedroom. "Gah, I feel so drained. More drained than I ever have in my entire life."

Maes stood as well, following a foot or two behind Roy in case his over-tired body decided not to cooperate. "I'm not surprised. It was the same way last time you had this dream."

"So I've had it before?"

"Yeah, but it was like the very next day you forgot you ever had it."

"...If I forget it again tomorrow, do me a favor and remind me."

Maes crossed his fingers in his pocket. "Sure thing, Roy."

Roy walked slowly down the hall, speed more muscle soreness than anything else. He paused in front of the hallway mirror and frowned, hand reaching up to cup his neck. "The hell?"

"Roy? What's up?"

"Where did this scar come from? I don't remember ever getting this thing."

Maes frowned, he too staring at the already fading scar. He knew from experience that it would be gone by tomorrow, along with Roy's memories of the dream. Roy continued, "They look almost like...are those teeth marks?"

"Who knows?" Maes asked. "They'll still be there in the morning, Roy, and you still need to get some actual sleep."

The alchemist sighed. "Fine." He shuffled the last few steps to his bedroom and into bed, asleep again almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Maes frowned down at his friend worriedly. He reached down and gently pried Roy's fingers away from his neck, examining the place where the scar had decorated the skin of his neck and upper collarbone a moment before. Now, there was nothing as Maes had expected.

He straightened with a sigh. "Until next time, Roy. I'll be there with you when it comes back to haunt your dreams again. I just hope its a long time before it does."

Roy, thankfully, didn't answer, and instead slept on peacefully, unaware as the memories of his supernatural encounter faded away again.

Unaware that the next time they made an appearance, he would _not_ have his best friend there to look after him.

* * *

A/N: Alright, so to explain about the things in this chapter. I'm about halfway through Stephen King's "It." Not a very fun book, maybe, but it's still a very good book. The old movie scared the crap out of me when I was younger, and for some reason I still decided to read the original book. I do not have very good life choices.

Anyway, scary things in general do not sit well with me, and I've been having scary It-related dreams these past couple days, and the one I had last night was this story. So when I woke up, I did my best to record everything that happened in that dream.

I hope it turned out okay, and I'm very interested to know what you guys think about this. Let me know in the reviews!

I really feel like I didn't do Stephen King any justice, but that may just be because I'm not an experienced horror author, so who knows. Meh!

Bye! See ya' next chapter!


	3. Delicate Handling

**A/N: Hi there! I would have uploaded this last night but I got a migraine, and Leto knows those ain't fun.**

 **You lot have got some parental!RoyAl this chapter, so yay! I feel like I'm kinda bad at writing anything parental, because it falls just short of having that parental feel to it, ya know? Anyways...**

 **Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Roy sat stiffly in his chair, using every ounce of energy he had to not to slouch. He was mostly failing, but he had to stay awake, and slouching was the first step to falling asleep. He couldn't afford to do that now. Edward was missing.

Three weeks ago tomorrow, Roy had sent Edward on a mission to Nevaeh to investigate rumors of a Philosopher's Stone, or something very like it. Only problem was, Alphonse couldn't go with him. Nevaeh was the source of a growing civil war, with the city itself a red zone for conflict. Roy hadn't been happy with the idea of sending a fifteen-year-old straight into battle, but he'd offered the mission to Fullmetal anyway with no actual requirement that the alchemist go.

In true Fullmetal fashion, Edward had taken the mission, fully aware that Al wouldn't, couldn't go with him as a ten-foot-tall suit of armor would draw more attention to the two than just a short kid with a bright red coat might do. Neither of the brothers were happy with the idea of splitting up, but in their minds, they didn't have much choice. If the rumors about this Philosopher's Stone were true and Edward didn't go, then they would miss out on a perfect opportunity to get their bodies back.

And that was assuming that there was indeed a Philosopher's Stone in Nevaeh. Roy had given Edward direct orders to report to him at the end of every day, the teen only agreeing because he knew he was going into a potential war zone.

During Edward's first week in Nevaeh, everything seemed fine. Fullmetal reported to Roy every night at about nine, with no spectacular news beyond that there was _something_ involving the Philosopher's Stone here, Edward just wasn't sure what yet. The actual stone itself didn't seem to be in Nevaeh, but Edward wasn't completely done with interviewing the people of the city yet, or at least, the people who were willing to talk to him.

Then there was the night when Edward didn't call in. Roy had let it go for one night, hoping that perhaps the kid had gotten too tired to call, or maybe stayed at the library and lost track of time, or simply just couldn't make it to a phone, for whatever reason. It was the second night when Roy began to get worried, and the morning after when reports of a rebellion reached his desk.

It seemed as if the people of Nevaeh had grown tired of the military's attempts to keep the peace, or whatever it was they were really trying to do there, and had rose against some of the officers. One report suggested that the cause of the conflict was a soldier accidentally shooting a child, as if that excuse didn't sound familiar.

Ordinarily, Roy wouldn't have been concerned, even though he'd sent Edward in that direction. The outbreak of conflict had been in the Jibral region, while Edward was staying in the Talta region, just outside the city. But the night before Edward had lost contact, he'd told the Colonel that he thought there might be more clues about the Philosopher's Stone in the Jibral region. Roy had simply said, "be careful and report back in as soon as you can." Followed by one of the boy's own sarcastic comments before the phone clicked off.

But two days was worrying, even for the Fullmetal Alchemist. Two days without contact. Roy officially became concerned when that report of conflict reached his desk. When Alphonse had been informed of his brother's worrying lack of contact, he'd simply said that maybe his brother was busy, or couldn't get to a phone. There was no reason to assume that he might have been caught in the crossfire.

A week was much too long, however, and it was then that Roy started searching. He had Hughes looking through every bit of information he could get, and even his own subordinates were working tirelessly throughout the day and night to try and find their friend. So long, in fact, that Roy ordered them to go home after a few days. They were working themselves to death, and they wouldn't do anyone any good exhausted and barely able to see straight.

And Roy was very good at following his own advice. So good, in fact, that he hadn't left HQ for a week and was surviving on caffeine and will power alone. Edward wasn't exactly going to find himself, and no one was going to find him if the entire team was at home resting. So until they found him or Edward magically appeared perfectly unharmed, someone had to stay at the office to work.

But that plan didn't seem to be going very well. Roy was almost out of juice, even with his caffeine. He wanted to sleep so badly, but knew he couldn't do that until Fullmetal was found. Dammit, where could the kid have gone off to?

He flipped through the conflict report again, knowing it wouldn't be of much use. He'd already read through its contents so many times, Roy almost had it memorized. While tensions and unrest had been slowly growing over the past years or so, they seemed to have climaxed three weeks ago when a soldier, Kirstin Maldonado, "accidentally" shot a child. Roy doubted the accident back in Ishbal, and he felt inclined to doubt it now.

The shooting had almost incited a war right then and there. Civilians rose against the military personnel posted there, and soldiers had been ordered to shoot at anyone not wearing a uniform. And right there was the cause of Roy's worry. Fullmetal didn't wear the military uniform, he almost abhorred it. As if putting it on would in itself sell his soul to the military.

Up until this point, Roy had never really been concerned with Fullmetal's disregard for the uniforms. They were bulky, hot, uncomfortable things, and Roy really saw no point to try and force the thing on the kid, especially when he was traveling around all the time like he did. But now, Roy almost wished he'd made it mandatory for the kid to wear. It might've been what saved him.

No! Roy couldn't afford to think like that. Fullmetal was still out there somewhere, Roy just had to find him. The question was, where was he? And if he was okay, why was he going so long without contact? Was he just not able to get to a phone?

Though the fighting had calmed, tensions were still high. Fullmetal, if he was wise, would have to be careful. But still, where would he be? In a situation like this, Fullmetal wouldn't go this long without having some form of contact with his younger brother to let him know he was all right. So what -

There was a knock on the door. Roy looked up to see Alphonse standing in the doorway with his metal hand to the door. "Hello, sir."

Roy smiled slightly. "Come in, Al." The suit of armor did so, each footfall echoing like a trashcan that's been kicked. They seemed quieter than they had been when Ry had first met the kid. Al seemed to have learned how to control his body better.

"How's the search for brother coming on your end, Colonel?"

Roy scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "To be honest with you, not well. There's nothing to indicate where Fullmetal might've gone off to."

Al was silent for a moment, then, "You should get some rest, Colonel."

The alchemist stared over his desk at the younger Elric. "I wouldn't think you of all people would be saying that to me, I really wouldn't."

"No offense, but you're not going to be much use to brother if you're exhausted. How long has it been since you slept?"

"I have too slept!"

"Yeah? When?"

"Yesterday morning, I took a nap at my desk while Hawkeye was out."

"Alright, let me correct myself. How long has it been since you slept properly?"

"...A couple weeks."

"I rest my case."

Roy snorted. "That proves nothing!"

Al's helmet moved around, scanning the contents of Roy's desk. "I feel like these coffee cups prove a lot," the armor said quietly. "How many are there? One, two, three, four, five-"

Roy cut him off. "Okay, okay, I get it! But it still doesn't mean I'm going to sleep! Your brother needs finding, and I'm not gonna stop until I find him!"

"You forget. I don't need sleep, so I can still keep going while you're resting like everyone else. You don't need to run yourself into the ground in order to find my brother, you know he wouldn't want even you to do that."

Roy sighed, resting his forehead against his linked fingers. "It's just- You boys. Ha. When I went to Resembool, I went expecting to find two experienced alchemists in their thirties, not two young boys clever and driven enough to attempt human transmutation. I would never have expected you and Ed. Not in a million years.

"I guess...over the past few years, I...I've grown to care about you boys more than I'd thought possible."

"You care about your other subordinates too," Al said quietly.

Roy laughed shakily, pulling his hands nervously through his hair and avoiding looked at Al. "True, but it's, I dunno, different somehow. I care about you and Ed a lot. I think I might actually go so far as to say that you're, well, you're like sons to me."

He waited anxiously, wondering how on earth Alphonse would react to something like that. Truth knew the boys hadn't exactly had the best experience with fathers. So it would be an understatement to say that Roy was surprised when Al started laughing. Well, it was less of a laugh and more of a soft chuckle.

"Can you imagine what brother would say if he heard you say that?" Al asked, suppressing giggles. After a moment, Roy chuckled too. He could almost hear the offended, faux-angry shouting now. Like one of his short rants that lacked actual anger.

"But what do _you_ say?" Roy asked after a moment.

"...I say thank you for telling me that, Colonel. It means a lot."

Roy smiled at the suit of armor. "Just don't tell Ed I said that, yeah? Not yet. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

Alphonse somehow did the equivalent of a shudder while in a metal body. "Yeah, I can imagine. But for now, Colonel, you just need to think about getting some sleep."

Roy yawned, the action itself almost sending him to sleep. He stood and stretched his arms above his head. "Hmm. Perhaps you're right."

"You don't even have to leave the office," Al chirped cheerfully. "You can just sleep on the couch!"

Roy snorted, wandering through the fog in his brain how he hadn't thought of that before. The main reason he hadn't wanted to go home to rest was because he was afraid some new info would come in while he was gone, and by the time he did get in, something would've happened that he could've done something about.

Roy wandered around his desk with shuffling footsteps and was halfway to the couch when the phone on his desk rang. Leaning against the solid surface, Roy reached over the desk and lifted the phone from its cradle to his ear. "Mustang speaking."

" _Yo, Colonel Bastard!"_

Roy blinked, suddenly wide awake. "Fullmetal?" He asked in astonishment. Al stared at him, waiting for any news on his brother.

" _Yup!"_

"Where the hell've you been? We've been searching for you!"

" _Yeah, I noticed Captain Obvious, thanks for the tip. The military guys here in Nevaeh just dragged me into their HQ without any sort of explanation, sat me in front of a phone and told me to call you."_

"No explanation!" Roy spluttered, anger starting to make itself known in his sleep-deprived brain. "Fullmetal, you've been missing for three weeks! Where the hell have you been?"

" _Two weeks and six days,"_ the little snot had the audacity to reply. " _Not three weeks. And I've been in the library, reading up on some stuff."_

"What," Roy half snarled. "Were you too short to reach a phone, or maybe you just couldn't see a calendar over that gnat that flew in your way?"

" _What the hell did you say to me?!"_ Was the instant rejoinder. " _I'm not short, you're just a freakishly tall, Xingjian-descended bastard!"_

"Are you insulting my nationality, Fullmetal? See, 'cause I would've thought your knowledge of other countries would be a little _short_ , considering you spend all your time buried behind books and not behind a desk in school where you should be, being recorded as absent because your teacher couldn't see you behind the desk!"

Alphonse sighed, though he would've smiled if he could. Instead he held out his hand to the Colonel, asking without words for the phone. Roy stared at him for a moment, and Al actually wondered if the Colonel wouldn't give it to him, so concerned with his insult-trading contest with Ed. Then the moment was gone, and the phone sat in his hand. He raised it to his "ear."

" _Whatsamatter, bastard? Not clever enough to say anything?"_

"No, actually, he just handed me the phone, brother," Al said patiently, though not without amusement.

" _Al! And here I was thinking I would be stuck talking with the bastard for the rest of forever!"_

"Were you really just in a library, brother? For three weeks?"

" _...Yeah, Al, definitely! I just got caught up in the books! You know how it is, I didn't even notice the time flying by!"_

"You're not a very good liar, brother, not when it comes to me. Now where were you?"

" _...In a hospital_ ," Edward said quietly, as if ashamed. " _I didn't mean to scare you or anything, I swear, but when that kid got shot in the Jibral region, I didn't really have any time to react. The police were shooting at anyone without a military uniform, and I-"_

"Brother?" Al asked, in rising anxiety. "Are you okay? Did you get shot?" Roy, who'd been nodding off while leaned against the desk, started and stared at him in alarm.

Edward sucked in air quickly, Al could hear it over the phone. " _I-yeah. I got two in the gut, and apparently I lost so much blood that I went into a coma. There wasn't much the doctors could do but give me transfusion and hope I woke up."_

"But you're okay now?"

" _Yeah, Al, I'm okay. When I woke up, I gave the doctors my ID. They called the military, who sent some guys over here immediately to tell me what's been goin on. Hopefully, I'll be able to go back to Central soon."_

Roy still stared at Al, waiting anxiously for any news. "Okay, brother, but make sure you call before you get on the train. I'll meet you at the station when you get back."

" _Okay, Al. I'll see you then."_

"Bye, brother." The phone clicked off, and Al set the phone back in its cradle. "Well?" Roy asked. "Is he okay? I heard something about getting shot?"

"Ed was caught in the crossfire when the police started shooting, and he lost a lot of blood. He went into a coma and he's been in the hospital since. The military made him call you once he woke up."

Roy groaned. "Why didn't he say anything? Why on earth would he want to sound irresponsible, when instead he got shot, which was hardly his fault?"

"I don't know, Colonel. Sometimes brother does odd things without telling anyone the reason why. I think the most likely reason is that he just didn't want any of us knowing that he got hurt."

"But still! Why? It doesn't make sense!"

"Brother often doesn't make sense, Colonel," Al said wisely. "I've sometimes found that in those moments, brother just needs delicate handling. There's not really anything we can do."

Roy shook his head. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Would you wake me when his train is coming in? I'll go to the station with you."

"Sure thing, Colonel."

"Thanks." Within seconds, the Colonel was sound asleep and snoring on the arm of the couch, using his jacket as a blanket.

 _True, but it's, I dunno, different somehow. I care about you and Ed a lot. I think I might actually go so far as to say that you're, well, you're like sons to me._

Al laughed quietly, careful not to wake Roy.

"Well, Colonel," Al whispered. " _I_ might actually go so far as to say that you're like a father to me, and as much as brother might protest it, I think he feels the same way."

A slight, peaceful smile shifted onto Roy's face, as though he had heard Al's admission in his dreams. And the unconscious thought made him happy, even in sleep.


	4. A Little Kindness Never Goes Amiss

**A/N: Well, this WAS going to be the fifth chapter, but this seemed to fit better. After, last one you guys got some parental!RoyAl, so this chapter you get some parental!RoyEd! Two exclamation marks... Ugh**

 **Anyways, the next chapter, the fifth, will be the last. Should be up in a week or so, if I don't forget.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Edward sat grumpily on the Colonel's black leather couch, waiting impatiently for the bastard to be through reading his report. The bastard always insisted that Ed stay in his office until the report was read and filed, though Ed was hard-pressed to find out why.

Edward's Thursday was not going very well. The night before, he had taken the time to carefully write out his report in perfect detail and handwriting, just to get Colonel Bastard off his ass for one day. He'd stayed up well past midnight doing his best to make it right.

However, the next morning, Edward had woken up too late. He'd eaten quickly as the small table in their hotel room, Al warning him the entire time to be careful not to spill his coffee. But did Edward's brain listen? No, it did not!

With one clumsy, stupid movement that Ed really didn't think was his own fault, the coffee cup in his hand had jerked suddenly to the side, spilling it's contents over the rim and onto Edward's bare flesh hand. Usually, it wouldn't have been a problem. But the coffee was freshly brewed and boiling hot, and it scalded Ed's hand badly. Badly enough for Al's First Aid kid handbook to classify it a second-degree burn.

Worse than that, when the coffee hit Ed's hand, his muscles automatically did what any other would do. They jerked his hand away from the pain, spilling more of the coffee and worsening the damage. The coffee hit the table and soaked into the nearest sheet of paper, which just _happened_ to be Edward's painstakingly written out report.

Edward was already running almost ten minutes late. So he'd just grabbed the sopping report and went out to call a cab, allowing Alphonse to anxiously tend to his injured hand.

Soon enough, Edward stood in front of the Colonel with his soiled report clenched in his burned, aching hand while the bastard taunted him about size, lateness, the state of his report, and the connection between the three. Edward had just stood there, fuming, but too exhausted and in too much pain to even try to think of a response.

Which was why he now sat on the couch in front of Mustang's desk, waiting for the bastard to be done trying to read it so he could go and get some sleep.

Mustang looked up the report in his hand. "What did you say you did to it to make it so illegible?"

Ed glared at him. "I spilled coffee on it," he spat, unconsciously pulling his hand back into his sleeve.

Instead of answering, Mustang instead said "You know something, Fullmetal? I've heard that too much caffeine when you're young can stunt your growth. I've known you for, what, three years now? I'm just thinking about how many cups of coffee I've seen you drink during that entire time span. Ha! I think I've finally found the reason why you're so short, Fullmetal!"

Instead of a rant, Mustang instead received a sort of mumbled reply. He looked up, only to find Edward dozing sitting up, his head bobbing up and down and eyelids flickering as his brain simultaneously tried to wake him and keep him asleep. A small smile crossed Mustang's face, and he decided to leave the teen be for a few minutes.

And so Ed got his small(heh) cat nap, and woke up on his own a few minutes later. He looked over at Mustang, who seemed to be working on some of his growing stack of paperwork for once. "Get some sleep, Fullmetal?"

"I-I guess, yeah. Why'd you let me sleep?"

"You're obviously exhausted, and I didn't see the point in waking you."

"...Oh. Well thanks."

Mustang smirked, but didn't say anything. Well, it was really more of a soft smile and less of a smirk. Ed knew enough about the man to know the difference, as much as knowing the guy at all irritated him to no end. But it was good to know that Mustang wasn't an all-out douchebag just waiting for the right moment to spill the beans about his automail and Al's body to the military.

It really was good to know.

Mustang glanced back at the teen to find him deep in thought, and looking like he may want to pass out again on the couch. He made a decision. Mustang dropped the report into a folder and slipped it into a drawer where it would be safe for awhile. "Hey, Fullmetal," he called quietly.

The teen looked over at him in a sleepy haze. "Why don't you go back to your hotel and get some actual sleep, okay? Come back tomorrow when you can answer questions without falling asleep."

Edward nodded, too exhausted to argue. Usually, he would have just kept on truckin', but today was not one of those days. He stood, swaying on the spot for a moment before making his way to the door. "Bye, Colonel," he called over his shoulder, reaching out his hand to turn the knob.

Mustang paused, staring narrowly at Ed's hand. "Fullmetal?"

Edward gave him a tired look. "What happened to 'get some sleep'?"

"Still in effect, Fullmetal, just wondering. What happened to your hand?"

"What, are you trying to rub it in or something? I used it to get Al's body back."

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not the metal one, Fullmetal, the flesh one. I know you're tired and all, but come on!"

Edward glanced down self-conscientiously at his remaining hand, still on the door knob. "Oh. Coffee, remember? I spilled it on my hand, too."

"Has it been treated? How bad's the burn?"

"When did you turn into a field medic, bastard?"

"In Ishbal, when friendly soldiers were sometimes accidentally hit with my alchemy. Now, has your hand been treated?"

Edward seemed to shake himself. "Uh, yeah, Al wrapped it up for me before I left. I don't know if he did anything else to it, though."

Roy began to dig through his desk drawers, looking for a simple First Aid kit. "Sit on the couch, I've got something that will help with that pain."

Luckily for him, Roy figured, Edward seemed too tired to actually argue. He just sat compliantly on the couch and waited. Maybe not so luckily? Edward had never done anything compliantly, at least not for Roy! Kid must really need a nap.

Roy found what he was looking for and walked to the couch and picked up Ed's hand and began to unwrap the bandages around it, wincing when he got a look at the burn. "I love a hot cup of coffee as much as the next guy, Fullmetal, but maybe for future reference, you shouldn't drink it so hot you get second degree burns."

Edward glared half-heartedly at him. "I was running late, and I guess my muscles were all jittery or something." He glanced out the window at the overcast sky and shifted uncomfortably. "It also could've been the sudden change in weather. It does weird stuff to my ports sometimes, and then it kind of effects my whole body."

Roy winced in sympathy, taping the last bandage in place over the burned area. "All done." He glanced out at the sky too and his brow furrowed. "Is Al in the office?"

Ed shook his head. "He stayed back at the hotel. There were some new books we got, and he said he'd get a head start on reading them while I was here. Why?"

"I'm not sure I want you leaving on your own."

Ed rolled his eyes. "You kidding, bastard? You have me go on life-threatening missions, sometimes by myself, and you don't want me going out in only potentially bad weather?"

Roy glanced out at the sky, then back at Ed. He wondered if Fullmetal realized he was rubbing his automail shoulder port, though from the way the kid was arguing, he guessed not.

"It's just looking like it's gonna be a bad storm, Fullmetal, and you said yourself that bad weather messes with your ports."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Edward turned to leave, but Roy stopped him again.

"Seriously, Fullmetal, don't leave quite yet."

"Nothing's happening! It's just all gray!"

"And going to get worse, I've been listening to weather forecasts for days about this storm!" As if to prove Roy's point, and loud clap of thunder sounded throughout the building and lightning flashed a second later.

Edward glanced out the window again, only this time, he looked slightly nervous. Thunder boomed again, lightning flashed, and the rain started pouring. "Okay, yeah, maybe not leaving."

Roy smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Don't know why you're so glad, bastard, as that wet stuff outside makes you useless."

Roy flushed slightly, but not enough for the kid to notice. "That's if I'm outside, Fullmetal, which you'll notice we're not." He stood and paced to the window, staring out at the rain. "It's actually quite nice, you know, when it's not making me utterly useless to the people I care about."

"You're not gonna go all soft on me now, Mustang, are ya?" Ed complained, though there was no real complaint in his voice.

"I think I'm probably softer than you'd ever bargain for, Fullmetal."

Edward shuddered. "Yeah, sure." He looked around. "Hey, mind if I-"

CRASH

The lightning strike and its thunder sounded and showed at the same time, the light from the strike less than a quarter of a mile away. A moment later, the lights went out. Complete darkness shrouded Central City.

Roy dug in his pocket for a moment before pulling out one ignition glove. He slipped it on, snapped, and held a small, dancing flame in his palm. The fire didn't go anywhere, or go out, but kept feeding on the oxygen in the room.

They both listened to the sounds of many people in the building give exasperated sighs and grinned simultaneously. "You were saying, Fullmetal?"

"Uh, yeah, since I can't leave, you mind if I just sleep on your couch?"

"It's all yours."

Ed didn't even bother with a thank you. He just flopped down on the couch and drifted off almost immediately. A moment later, Hawkeye entered the room, holding several candles. She set them on the Colonel's desk and turned to examine Edward, who looked very young and innocent in sleep, if a little pained because of the severity of the weather.

Both Riza and Roy smiled when looking at the teen.

It was a change of pace, and all in all, peaceful.


	5. Heart

**A/N: I kinda feel like I failed on this chapter, though I'm not sure why. Maybe because this doesn't really actually have anything to do with sleeplessness. Maybe I can improve it someway in the future, but for now this is it!**

 **Also, I used some quotes from Eragon later on in this, so me no own**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _It's my fault._

 _Is it though? There wasn't much I could've done. Actually, there wasn't_ anything _I could've done._

 _Doesn't matter, the child died inside of you, it's your fault whether you did or didn't do anything._

"It's my fault," Izumi whispered.

Sig shifted his seat beside Izumi's bed. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, Izumi, it's not."

Izumi shifted in her uncomfortable hospital bed. "Isn't it, though? For the longest time, we couldn't conceive because of something inside me. Then when we finally do, our child dies inside of me. Tell me dear, how is that _not_ my fault?"

Sig was silent. "Did you intentionally harm our child? Prevent his birth? Because I know you didn't, Izumi. If you had done those things, then it would indeed be your fault. But you wouldn't have reason to do that, in fact, you've been looking forward to having a child as much as I have. So no, Izumi, it is not your fault."

Izumi was silent for a long while, far longer than Sig would've liked. It was hours before she spoke again and it didn't take much for Sig to figure that his wife still blamed herself for the miscarriage.

However, unbeknownst to Sig, Izumi was thinking of something else.

Okay, yes, perhaps the child's death was not her fault. Izumi might be able to live with that in time. Or maybe she wouldn't have to. What if...?

No, that was a horrible idea. Izumi could always just try for another baby. There was no need to risk her life in what she was sure would be a fruitless effort. Not only was it a horrible idea, it was a hopeless idea. That kind of transmutation would produce nothing.

But still. What if she could? Izumi was different than any other alchemist. She'd always been the most powerful among the students her master had taken on, the most skilled. She'd fought bears and wolves and military forces in the Briggs Mountains and lived.

 _And all for nothing, too,_ Izumi thought in amusement. _That man didn't turn out to be the Silverstein I wanted._

Silverstein or Goldstein, Izumi had learned an important lesson up on that mountain. No life was equal to another, and all life was equaled to a single whole. There was no way a transmutation like that would work, not with those universal rules in place.

...but what if it could?

What if Izumi could make it work?

Yes, she would make it work. Izumi decided she would. She would work and work and work until it was possible and than bring back her child. Why try for another if she could just bring back the one she'd lost?

Izumi glanced to the side to look at her husband. He looked tired and sad, as Izumi suspected she looked.

Yes, Izumi would do this unspeakable act. But if, no, when she completed the task, it would no longer be so unspeakable.

Izumi would bring back her child.

* * *

It had taken many months of planning. Many, many months of planning while Sig was out at the market or out of town for some reason. Izumi was always careful to keep her notes away from her husband, because she knew that the instant Sig saw the notes he would know. Sig would disapprove of the idea, but Izumi had to do it.

She spent so many nights reading late into the night when Sig was asleep. So many nights doing calculations and arranging arrays in her head while she lay in bed next to her husband pretending to be asleep, trying to find a way to make it work.

And it was ready now. The transmutation circle lay sketched out on the floor before her, a bowl of ingredients in the center. Izumi was crouched next to it, going over everything that was required and everything she had put in the bowl. Her sleepless mind was boggled, and the thought of waiting until tomorrow to try entered her foggy brain. But no, she couldn't do that. Sig would be back tomorrow, and then he would know.

Sig would try and stop her, and Izumi couldn't let that happen. The child had to be brought back, he would be.

Izumi shifted from her knees to her feet, almost falling over as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She leaned heavily against the wall, breathing slowly and deeply. Maybe she should wait a few minutes? No, Sig could come back at any time and her find her down here in the basement. And then it would be over.

Izumi stepped carefully over to the bowl centered in the transmutation circle, carrying a hair brush and a small baggie of beard clippings. Soul data. It should work. She dumped the baggie into the bowl and pulled more than a few strands of hair from the brush and dropped them in as well.

Izumi set the baggie and the brush aside and knelt once again by the side of the transmutation circle. She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Then she placed her hand on the circle and concentrated.

The transmutation light whirled up around her, stronger than she'd ever seen. The golden light was brightest in the center of the circle, where the bowl sat. That gave Izumi cause for hope, though there was a pit deep in her stomach that she did her best to ignore.

The light shone brighter and brighter with each passing second, til eventually Izumi had to look away. Then something happened that Izumi did not expect.

The door banged open, revealing an anxious and worried-looking Sig. He raised his hand against the light, though his eyes stayed on Izumi's hunched over form. "Izumi!" He called, begging she would hear over the sounds of the transmutation. She did, though she gave no sign of it. Izumi had to continue, she would not come all this way for thing.

The golden light grew brighter still, and the wind raged throughout the room. She ignored calls of "Izumi, stop!" and kept her hands pressed firmly to the transmutation circle, when suddenly the golden light turned dark and hateful. Izumi felt the affects of this new reaction almost immediately. There was the feeling of someone repeatedly punching her in the stomach, and then it suddenly felt like everything inside of her was...well, outside.

She collapsed on the floor, clutching her stomach, but the transmutation circle no longer needed her guidance to continue. What looked like a hole in the floor opened up inside of the circle, revealing what appeared to be a large eye. Long creeping black tentacles slipped out of the circle, searching for something. Izumi was sure it was her.

She was not wrong. The long black creepers wrapped around her arms and legs, and suddenly Izumi was no longer in her house. The whole area was white, though for Izumi, there was no hope in ascertaining what or where the area was. It was just...there. All it did was exist.

And while she looked vainly around for any sign of where she might have appeared, there was none. She turned around, and was faced with a tall door. Izumi had no clue what kind of material the door seemed to be made of. It both matched and defied all characteristics of every type of stone she knew. She examined it carefully and still came no closer to figuring out what on earth the door was even for.

" _Enjoying the view, miss alchemist?"_

Izumi whipped around, only to have trouble finding the owner of the voice that had just spoken to her. A white Being, with close to no form. It held a wide grin on its face, though no emotion was expressed through it.

"Who are you?" Izumi was not proud to admit that her voice wavered, though only a little.

" _Why, what an odd question! Oh, I am_ so _glad you asked! I am Truth, I am God, I am the the world, I am the universe._ " A short pause, before the Being's hand lifted to point at her. " _And...I am also you."_

Izumi stammered. "W-what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering, the Being simply smirked and said " _I suppose you would like to see what is on the other side of that door, am I right, miss alchemist?"_

Izumi gaped, by now almost completely unsure of what was happening. The tall doors behind her began to open, the bottoms dragging loudly against the nonexistent floor. Izumi turned tail and tried to run toward the thing that called itself "Truth," but a long dark creeper shot out of the doors before it was even fully open and snagged her foot. It began to drag Izumi toward the darkness within the Gate.

" _You must have known what you were getting yourself into, miss alchemist,"_ the Being mused aloud. " _Doesn't every alchemist who attempts to bring back the dead? Don't they_ all _want to know the Truth about what lies beyond those doors?"_

Izumi screamed as the creeper succeeded in its mission of dragging her into the darkness. Her fingernails left no marks on the ground that somehow allowed for the dragging noises the Gate made when opening. Or closing, as they were doing now.

And then

 _Everything_

 _Her eyes_

 _They burned_

 _Oh hell_

 _Was this hell?_

 _It wasn't just her eyes that burned, it was her mind_

She couldn't take what she was seeing, it was all so much.

So much, she barely had room for conscious thought. Both pain and relief beyond imagining filled her brain. Information she never could have imagined on her own filtered across her vision like Cinematic Records.

 _Cinematic Records?_

 _What?_

 _Where had that thought come from?_

 _Ah, there. A tall red-headed man who was not a man. A non-man with a chainsaw._

The images were confusing.

 _A child. No, two. Both blond, though the smaller one had eyes and hair like the sun. Who were these beautiful children?_

 _Why did she already love them?_

Was it love?

 _Adrift upon the sea of time, the lonely god wanders from shore to distant shore, upholding the laws of the stars above._

 _The trickster, the riddler, the keeper of the balance, he of the many faces who finds life in death and who fears no evil; he who walks through doors._

Who was this man, more powerful than the angels?

 _Angel._

 _A tall man, wings like light shown on the wall behind him._

Do angels wear trenchcoats? Those were the cloakings of men.

 _Men._

 _Men the angel loved above all else. They embrace the angel, one as a brother the other as a lover._

Did angels love?

 _Angels_

 _The love of angels_

 _The voices of the angels_

 _Four men and a woman stand on a stage in front of a raging crowd, with voices like the angels_

 _Hallelujah_

If Izumi believed in angels, that was. Though after her visions, she just might. Those five people, they sounded like angels.

 _Five?_

 _No, three._

 _Not that five, another three._

 _The Pusher, the Prisoner, and the Lady of Shadows_

 _Though to those names they no longer belong_

 _The Drawing of the Three was already complete, the Dark Tower and Andre Linoge awaited the Three_

 _(Andre Linoge?)_

 _Randall Flagg, though Andre Linoge still._

 _(Linoge?)_

 _Legion_

 _I am Legion, for we are many_

 _A clown, chasing a nameless soldier through the smoke of a burning city_

The visions were too much they had to stop

Burning

That was all Izumi could understand was burning

 _(but)_

But there was still something more, something just out of reach

The Truth

The answer to it all

If Izumi could reach it, she get all the answers she needed. The only one she needed was the one which would bring her child back to life

The creeper gripped her arms and legs again, and began pulling her back to the light. More visions came before her

 _A cat._

 _A talking cat. Bigger than most, intelligence and malignance glittered in dark eyes._

 _A tall, war-torn boy, no, a man now, with the glow of power all around him._

" _There are many strange forces at work in Alagaësia, Shadeslayer. I have seen things that defy belief: whirlwinds of light spinning in caverns deep below the ground, men who age backward, stones that speak, and shadows that creep. Rooms bigger on the inside than the outside ... Galbatorix is not the only power in the world to be reckoned with, and he may not even be the strongest. Choose carefully, Shadeslayer, and if you choose to go, walk softly."_

Words that made no sense.

Words no one listened to.

 _A tall, well built boy of only nine or ten facing another, with red hair and evil that littered the air around him._

 _War paint that looked like blood was smeared on the latter's face, and both stared down at the rocks below their cliff where another boy, fatter than the others, lay with his skull smashed open upon the rocks._

 _Oh God, they were only children._

 _Evil. The evil that lay within the hearts and souls of all human beings_

 _the Lord of the Flies_

 _It was he who said so_

 _He who said_

 _Said_

 _East wind_

 _Eurus, the god of the east wind_

 _Sherlock, not a girl's name_

 _Mycroft, never Mike_

 _Redbeard, not a dog but a haunted, locked away child's memory_

 _Child_

 _Her child_

 _Reaching, reaching, not quite able to reach_

 _There was another child, the Ouroboros gleamed on his foot in the dark_

 _He held possession of another child's arm._

 _But not her child. Another her's child_

 _If she but reached a little farther, she could grasp the answers she needed_

 _Reaching reaching reaching_

Light. Izumi blinked, arms reaching out before her. The Doors slammed shut, and Izumi shuddered away from them. She wanted as far away as possible from these Gates. The information that lay within them was evil, things that should never be looked upon by human eyes.

The Truth cackled behind her, and Izumi spun on the spot once again.

" _You are wiser than most other humans, miss alchemist. I have an appointment with another in few years who will not be quite so wise. At least, not for a time. Tell me, what did you think of your trip?"_

"What was that?" Izumi asked, not even noticing the heavy tremble in her voice

" _The universe. And not just ours, but many, many others. Glimpses of the Truth of all worlds."_

"I hated it."

" _I would think so. They're not exactly pleasant for someone who has no experience."_

Izumi's voice was small. "Home. Can I go-"

" _Not quite yet, miss alchemist. I still have to exact your toll. You know, the one for seeing the Truth."_

Almost immediately, Izumi felt a pain in her stomach. Right about where period cramps usually exacted their vengeance. She collapsed onto her knees and put her hand over her mouth, feeling the blood forcing its way up her throat and out of her mouth. Onto her hand. That wasn't right, the blood belong _in_ side the body, not out.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

" _Now, miss alchemist, you may return to your home."_

The white vanished, leaving instead the image of her husband bent over a still form on the floor. It was small and bundled up, but Izumi did not need to lift her head in order to figure out that the transmutation hadn't worked. She'd known since the moment the Truth had dragged her to the Void.

Her eyes went dark as she stared at the grieving image of her husband bent over child who had only known the shortest, most painful of existences.

And it was all because of her.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not drunk, I swear to you.**

 **I'm not high, either**

 **I'm just very, very, very sleep-deprived.**

 **Well, this is the last chapter! I said it was going to be four, and I was wrong! It was five! Well, kinda. This last chapter really had nothing at all to do with not sleeping. I FAILED MISERABLY**

 **Well, now, I think it's about time I stopped procrastinating working on my Suicide Squad fic and started writing for that again.**

 **Because I've been doing that for about a month and a half now, so BYE ;) See you in the next FMA fic, lovelies!**

 **Also, all in all, these fics are 57 pages altogether. Just thought I'd tell you!**


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